Saturday, October 15, 2005

I look around me and I see pieces of paper scattered on the tables, the floor, the shelves. Disorganized, scattered, still in pieces. The papers lie untouched. I look outside my window... Green that makes the view look grey. People pass on bicycles, in cars, or walking as if trying to catch up on an invisible entity. All around me are black doves, black swans and dark ponds that reflect nothing.

Back to the room, where empty spaces busy my eyes. I slowly pick up the papers... Trying to put them into some sort of order. Trying to figure out in what order. Wondering how little order there is. Wondering why I have these pieces of papers in my hand. And suddenly I forget why I'm here. In this room that I try so hard to call home. I'm in a place where all I need to worry about is me. A place where faith in humanity died at birth. A place where people actually choose to be blind.

And so I sit here. In this room that I must call home. This place I chose to live in. And so I see my childhood dreams die